


Thawing the Ice

by SkepticalBeliever



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dropship AU, F/M, Fluff, The 100 (TV) Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkepticalBeliever/pseuds/SkepticalBeliever
Summary: Season 1 AU. When the delinquents experience their first blizzard on Earth, it's going to take strategic delegation and the combined efforts of everyone to make it through the night.---"The wind had a rather sharp bite that morning. It whipped through the tree branches and battered the walls of the delinquents’ tents, leaving behind a chill that nestled into their bones. Clarke pulled her jacket tighter around her in a vain effort to block the cold. Across the way she saw Bellamy, helping Sterling and Monroe secure a collapsed tent. He glanced at the sky, brows crumpled in thought, and then met her gaze. Her mouth set into a grim line.Something bad was coming, and they both knew it."
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81
Collections: bellarkescord advent calendar





	Thawing the Ice

**Thawing the Ice**

The wind had a rather sharp bite that morning. It whipped through the tree branches and battered the walls of the delinquents’ tents, leaving behind a chill that nestled into their bones. Clarke pulled her jacket tighter around her in a vain effort to block the cold. Across the way she saw Bellamy, helping Sterling and Monroe secure a collapsed tent. He glanced at the sky, brows crumpled in thought, and then met her gaze. Her mouth set into a grim line.

Something bad was coming, and they both knew it.

“Clarke, do you have a minute?” Monty appeared beside her, wearing the same concerned expression Bellamy wore. 

“Sure. What’s up?”

He held up a large jar, holding an inverted bottle, filled with murky water. “After the last big storm, I made a barometer; I didn’t want us getting caught unprepared again. It’s not perfect, but it does give an idea of what’s going on. Look at the water level,” he said, pointing to where the waterline was, a couple centimeters beneath a rubber band, wrapped around the circumference of the jar.

“It’s low…meaning low pressure, right?”

“Right. The thing is,” he sighed, “low barometric pressure is typically indicative of storms. That coupled with the drop in temperature we’ve been feeling the last few days means we could have a blizzard coming our way.”

“Shit.” Clarke crossed her arms. “How much time do you think we have?”

“It’s tough to say,” he hedged. “I’m not a meteorologist; my knowledge of this stuff is very basic. But I’d hazard a day? Maybe two?”

Not good, but she could work with that. “Okay. Monty, could you find Raven for me and meet me in the dropship? We need to figure out a plan.”

He nodded and took off. Clarke turned on her heel and marched towards Bellamy who appeared to have been watching the exchange.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Clarke shook her head. “Monty thinks a blizzard is coming.”

Bellamy scrubbed his hand across his face. “It’s always something down here. So, what’s the plan, Princess?”

“Not quite sure yet. I could definitely use your input. C’mon. Monty and Raven should be waiting in the dropship.”

* * *

The threat of hazardous winter conditions had been on Clarke’s mind for a while. As if she needed more dangers to worry about. 

Everything they owned was piecemealed together from scraps scavenged from their surroundings. Their clothes were threadbare, patched together; and while they served them fine in the relatively controlled climate of the Ark, they were proving less capable on the volatile ground. Their tents were fashioned from the parachutes that slowed their descent to Earth, hardly rated for freezing temperatures. 

Only the dropship seemed remotely capable of withstanding the oncoming storm. It could handle the subzero temperatures of space and the intense heat of reentry into Earth’s atmosphere. It might be their best shot at getting through this in one piece.

“We should focus on reinforcing the dropship, make sure it’s properly insulated so that, when the snow comes, we don’t freeze our asses off,” Raven said, examining the damaged hull where an uprooted tree had once broken through.

“And we need to make sure we have enough rations; we don’t know how bad this will get or how long we might be stuck inside,” Monty added.

Clarke nodded. “Okay. Repairs, ration inventory, potential hunting and scavenging trip, if necessary. Am I missing anything?”

“Camp defense,” said Bellamy.

“You think the Grounders might attack?” Clarke asked him.

He shook his head. “Probably not during the actual storm, but who knows leading up to it? I agree with Raven and Monty that we should prioritize prepping for it, but we can’t completely ignore security either.”

“We can spare a few of our better shooters to patrol the wall. Maybe put Miller in charge. Anyone else we know should be on guard duty for sure?”

“Harper,” Monty piped up. “She’s good with a rifle and she doesn’t get frazzled easily.”

Bellamy smiled knowingly at Monty’s blush and nodded. “Harper’s a good pick. She and Miller get on well; between the two of them, I’m sure they can choose a small but organized group to keep camp safe while the rest of us prep.” 

Clarke chewed her lip considering. She _thought_ they had their bases covered, but what if she was missing something crucial? What if something went horribly wrong because they were unprepared? “Okay. Raven, Monty, you two take point on fortifying the dropship. Fill in Jasper on what’s going on; have him take the lead on rations. I’ll have Octavia help him out once she’s helped me with something. Bellamy, could you talk to Miller and Harper, get them up to speed?”

Raven and Monty headed out the door. Bellamy lingered, arms crossed, and brows raised.

“What?” Clarke asked as she began filling a pack with enough supplies for a day trip.

“One, what’s with the pack? Two, and possibly more importantly, what is this favor you want my sister to do?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“Depends. I’ll try not to,” he added.

“The pack’s for heading to the old bunker Jaha sent us to; I figured we might have missed something, considering we were high off our asses last time. As for the favor…I want Octavia to go talk to Lincoln. We’ve never experienced winter before; Earth Skills might have given us a theoretical knowledge, but there’s a big difference between theory and lived experience. Lincoln has that and—”

“It’s a good idea.”

Clarke blinked, surprised. “It is?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “His expertise could really help us here. Besides, O says he lives alone, away from the nearest village. I might not be his biggest fan, but he shouldn’t be alone right now; it’s not safe.”

“And you don’t want Octavia going to go look for him in the middle of a storm either,” Clarke guessed. 

Bellamy grimaced. “I’d feel better if I knew she was here with the others.” Clarke nodded and reached for a second pack, filling it with the essentials for the day trip. “Is that one for me?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke grinned. “If you want it to be.”

Bellamy smirked and slung the bag over his shoulder.

* * *

Octavia slowly slid the whet stone across the sword Lincoln gave her. The blade’s edge glimmered even in the dull light of the cloudy morning. It had been over a week since she last had the opportunity to sneak out and see him. Maybe she could disappear this afternoon while everyone’s busy. She needed a break from camp.

Was it just her, or were people more on edge than usual? Jittery? It couldn’t have just been because of the cold.

“Octavia!” 

She turned towards the sound of her name and saw Jasper and Monty bounding up to her. The same nervous energy she noticed in the others was rolling off them in waves. She jumped to her feet, armed and ready for whatever was coming. “What’s going on, guys? Are we under attack? Another hemorrhagic fever? What?”

“Nothing like that,” Monty assured her, staying a healthy distance from her drawn blade. “Clarke and Bellamy are about to head out on a scavenging trip, but they had an announcement before they left.”

“More like instructions,” Jasper added, “for the rest of us at camp. But it is pretty important.”

“I take it you know what they are?” Octavia asked, sheathing her sword and falling into step with her friends. 

“My fair lady,” Jasper said, grinning down at her, “you wound me! Of course, I do.”

“Storm’s coming,” Monty said. 

“Hey! I was getting to that!”

“You were taking too long.”

“But I had a whole bit I was going to do, Monty.”

Monty groaned. “She’s not going to get it.”

“Get what?” Octavia asked, feeling slightly miffed. 

Jasper stopped in his tracks and assumed an uncharacteristic, dignified stance. He lowered his voice to deep rumble. “ _Winter is coming_.”

Octavia frowned. Clearly, he was referencing something, but, as Monty predicted, it was completely lost on her. She smiled guiltily. 

“I can’t believe Bellamy never read _A Song of Ice and Fire_ to you,” Jasper grumbled. 

“In their defense,” Monty said, “books were hard to come by on the Ark and the series remained unfinished. It’s not really worth the effort.”

Jasper gasped in mock horror and he and Monty bickered the rest of the way to the wall where the other delinquents gathered. Sure enough, Bellamy and Clarke stood in the middle of the crowd, waiting for their audience to settle down.

“As some of you might have guessed,” Clarke said, calling the group to order, “a blizzard is likely on the way. Since we’ve never experienced one before, we need full cooperation in order to get through this.”

Bellamy stepped up, completely in his element. Octavia smiled to herself, quietly proud of her big brother. “We’re putting most tasks on hold in order to prioritize the following,” he said. “First and foremost, we need to fortify the dropship for the weather. Raven and Monty are taking the lead; if they ask you for help, drop what you are doing and help them. No one wants to hear eighty odd sets of teeth chattering all night, so do as they say. Second, rations. Jasper will be taking inventory, but he’ll need a few pairs of hands. If you’re not as mechanically adept as others, this will still be extremely helpful.”

“If in the event that rations are low and we need to hunt, we have some rules,” Clarke added, staring everyone down with her icy blue eyes. “No one goes out alone. Travel in groups of two or three. Also, no guns. We can’t spare the ammo; take a spear or an ax instead. And be smart; don’t travel too far from camp. I don’t want anyone dying from exposure.”

“Or a grounder attack!” someone yelled from the crowd. Others murmured their agreement. 

Octavia bristled.

“Speaking of,” Bellamy said, drawing the group’s focus again, “Miller and Harper are in charge of security for the time being. They have already spoken with those who will be on detail with them, so don’t bother them about getting a gun. Focus on helping Raven, Monty, and Jasper. Finally, we’re sending Octavia to go speak with the grounder, Lincoln.”

“I’m doing what now?” Octavia asked no one in particular. Monty and Jasper turned to her with curiosity burning in their eyes. She shrugged and turned her focus back on her brother.

“We could benefit from his knowledge of the land and his experiences with this kind of weather,” Bellamy continued. “It’s possible that he may return here with her. If so, _no harm should come to him_.” He glared at the crowd, leaving no room for argument. “If he does return here with Octavia, he will be our guest. And that’s how we’ll treat him.”

The crowd grumbled their complaints, but no one felt compelled to voice them too loudly. Their king had spoken.

“What about you and Clarke? Where are you two in all this?” Finn called from the fringes of the group, arms crossed, clearly irritated. 

Clarke winced. _Guess there’s trouble in paradise for those two_ , Octavia thought.

“Bellamy and I are leaving immediately on a scavenging mission to the bunker Chancellor Jaha sent us to a few weeks ago,” Clarke said, addressing the crowd. “If the trek weren’t so far, we would bring others with us. But I can’t risk any of you getting stuck outside of camp if something goes wrong. If all goes smoothly, we’ll be back tonight before the storm hits. If not, Raven, Monty, and possibly Lincoln are in charge. Listen to them and we’ll all get through this.” 

* * *

The crowd dispersed to receive their assignments from Raven. All but one.

Clarke grit her teeth as Finn determinedly approached her. It had been awkward between them recently. Raven ended things with Finn weeks ago, rightfully upset that he was prioritizing a woman with whom he was not in a relationship. While Raven grieved the relationship like a normal person would, Finn seemed only mildly perturbed by the new development. He had taken to seeking Clarke out at odd times, which, admittedly, was not an enormous change, but he was more flagrant about it now that he was newly single. 

Clarke really wished he wouldn’t. 

“You shouldn’t be heading out alone,” he said, standing a little too close for her comfort. 

She took a step back. “I won’t be alone.”

“You can’t trust Bellamy, Clarke,” Finn insisted. 

The urge to roll her eyes was intense. They had had this argument a lot lately. At first, she had tried to hear him out; maybe he knew something that she didn’t. But it became increasingly clear that this distrust stemmed from some dumb toxic masculinity nonsense for which she had neither the time nor the interest. 

“But I _do_ trust him, Finn. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”

She tried to side-step him and move toward the gate, but, evidently, he did not quite get the message. “I should still go with you. Think about it. If you two find something big, you might need an extra set of hands to get it back here. Plus, my tracking skills could come in handy.”

Clarke sighed. “Finn, that’s exactly why we need you _here_.” Perhaps an appeal to his ego and sense of duty would convince him to leave her in peace. “If they need to go hunting, you’re their best bet of finding and catching game without having to travel too far from camp.”

It was clear that this was not the answer he was hoping for. However, he nodded and said, “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Now, I really do need to go.”

He, thankfully, did not try to stop her again when she stepped around him. 

A wave of anger hit her as she made her way towards Bellamy, where he stood conversing with Miller, Harper, and Octavia. She used to rely on Finn so much. That was certainly not an easy thing to do, let alone admit to herself. Now, she could hardly look at him without seeing all the lies he told her and Raven play out across her eyes. 

“You sure you want us to do that, Bellamy?” Harper asked, her voice tinged with alarm.

“Yeah, man, we can _wait_.” Miller looked serious. What had Clarke missed?

Bellamy shook his head. “If we don’t get back before the storm hits, close the damn door and get your asses inside. You’re not freezing to death on my account.”

“Or mine.” Clarke met Bellamy’s gaze and nodded. She was glad he understood; keep the kids safe. He offered her a half smile.

“Any other questions?”

“Nah. Just stay safe.”

“You too,” Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia echoed.

The woods were eerily quiet. Likely, the animals were hunkering down in anticipation of the storm. _Not good_ , Clarke thought. _If the others need to hunt, it’s going to be that much harder. It also could mean we have less time than we thought to get back. Shit._

Ahead of her, Octavia moved swiftly through the underbrush, her clear eyes lit and a smile on her lips. It was not difficult to guess what inspired her good mood. Lincoln. She was going to see him, and she did not have to sneak out to do it. Clarke was glad for her. 

At least there was one person, she knew, who was not complete crap at relationships. What a novel concept.

“Hey, you okay?” Bellamy fell into step with her, his presence a welcome comfort.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” She chanced a glance up at him. He was watching her face carefully, his dark eyes warm with concern.

“You seemed upset, talking to Finn back there. Just wanted to make sure everything’s alright.”

Clarke snorted. “It’s nothing. But thanks.”

He continued gazing down at her for a beat. Then, “If you change your mind and want to talk, I’m here.”

As he jogged away to join up with his sister, Clarke pressed her fingers against her heated cheeks. Since when did she blush around Bellamy?

* * *

_I’m trying, O_ , Bellamy had said to her after the assembly, when she asked why he was sending her to Lincoln. Octavia could not believe her luck. When did her overbearing big brother learn to let go, just a little, just enough that she could choose her own companions? She glanced over her shoulder at his and Clarke’s retreating figures, heading deeper into the forest towards the bunker. She caught a glimpse of him moving aside a branch to clear a path for Clarke. She saw Clarke’s answering smile.

Octavia smirked to herself and pressed on towards Lincoln’s cave. Perhaps it wasn’t that complicated.

The air was chillier than when she woke that morning. She cupped her fingers together and blew a warm breath into them, rubbing the ice out of her knuckles. The storm was fast approaching; she needed to find Lincoln quickly and get back to camp. Being caught in a blizzard would really suck.

She puckered her lips and whistled three staccato notes followed by one sustained note. Lincoln thought they needed a new way to signal each other now that the flowers were wilting. Every dozen yards or so she repeated the tune, praying that he was near enough he could hear it, hoping he was the only one near enough to hear it.

She drew her sword, just in case.

A rustling from above drew her eye moments before a massive shadow dropped in front of her. Her blade clanged against theirs in a block. She danced out of the way, trading strikes with the figure. Adrenaline pumped in her veins; it exhilarated her as few things ever did. 

“You’re getting good at that,” a familiar voice said, dropping his hood and sheathing his sword. Lincoln’s proud smile was a dazzling star amidst the gloomy forest. He opened his arms wide and Octavia did not hesitate. She dropped her weapon and launched herself into his arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

_This is warm. This is safe._

“What are you doing here, Octavia?” Lincoln asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but a storm’s coming. You should be with your people.”

“You are my people.” She arched her brow, daring him to contradict her.

He sighed and stooped down to return her forgotten sword to her. “You know what I mean.”

“Okay then. Why aren’t you with yours?”

“You know why.”

“Because of me. Then you have no good reason not to come back to camp with me.”

Lincoln scoffed. “Your brother would have me shot on sight.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Octavia could hardly contain herself now. “He _asked_ me to find you. He’s worried we’re not ready for the winter and hoped you might share your knowledge. Which, you don’t really have much reason to after all the shit we did to you, but he also knows you live alone and was worried that if anything happened to you—or if I thought anything had happened—I’d be devastated and do something stupid and reckless. He’s really trying here. For us.”

She took his hand and laced her fingers with his. “Well, I can hardly say no with you looking at me like that,” Lincoln replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Octavia’s lips. “But we should hurry.”

At his words, something cold and wet splattered against her cheek. They both glanced up. What little sky they could see through the canopy of the trees was white, opaque. Flurries began a slow waltz down to the ground, melting as they touched her skin and hair.

The snow had arrived.

* * *

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me take those rifles.”

Bellamy was decidedly grumpy. Clarke could hardly blame him. The stress of the day was wearing her nerves thin, her back ached from lugging her now over-stuffed pack, and cold, unforgiving snow was seeping into her boots and freezing her feet. Bellamy had all that, plus he was worried about making it home to his sister. 

It was, honestly, a little endearing. He was not posturing the way he did when they first landed, and he was pissed off. He just grumbled about the snow falling ever more steadily, or the way his socks were now soggy, or, in this case, the fact that Clarke would not let him take the rifles they found, carefully tucked away in barrels in a dusty corner of the bunker. 

“I told you,” she said, carefully following the tracks he forged in the snow drifts, “we don’t need those right now. We need blankets and canteens and this first aid kit that I am honestly shocked we found.” She had been positively giddy when she stumbled upon the metal box containing clean gauze, bandages, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. If she could stave off a few avoidable infections with this kit, the trip was worth it.

“I know you’re right,” Bellamy replied, carefully maneuvering through the thick blanket of snow, “but those could’ve been useful.”

“Tell you what. When this is all over, we can lead a small expedition back there to retrieve them. They’re not going anywhere; the Grounders won’t touch them.”

“We?” he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. There was something in his gaze that made her feel hot and flustered.

It kept happening. She felt it when he showed her concern on their trek that morning. Felt it when his fingers brushed hers as they loaded their packs with necessities from the bunker. Felt it every time he held aside a low branch so she could travel more easily. Clarke knew what this was; she recognized the signs: attraction, feelings, things she could not afford to be thinking about at present. 

“If you want,” she said, meeting his gaze as if transfixed.

He said nothing but kept his eyes on her, an uncharacteristically shy smile on his lips, as they trudged through the steadily rising snow drifts.

That was, most certainly, unwise.

One moment they were cresting a hill. The next, Bellamy was tumbling down it. He landed in a heap of snow at the bottom of the ravine, his groan of pain echoing. “ _Fuck_.”

Clarke slid down after him, rapidly listing all his possible injuries in her head. _Concussion, broken limb, sprained limb, broken ribs, severe bruising_ … She shuddered. _Please be okay. Please be okay._

* * *

Camp had been in a tizzy since Bellamy and Clarke’s assembly, but it was surprisingly serene on the wall, especially once the snow began to accumulate. Harper had taken to sending guards back to the dropship one at a time. Grounders weren’t dumb enough to attack right now. Most of the guards nodded eagerly and scurried back inside towards the promise of a warm fire and Monty’s moonshine. 

Miller was not one of them. He stubbornly remained at his post, glaring out into the snow. Harper nudged him. “Thinking awfully hard there, Miller.”

“Bryan would love this.”

Harper frowned. There weren’t any Bryans in camp. “Who?”

“My boyfriend,” he explained with a wistful smile, “back on the Ark. He always wanted to see snow. Not me. Give me a hot beach and some decent waves for surfing. But Bryan? He would rather sled.”

“Maybe you’ll both get the chance someday.”

Miller’s smile dropped. “Maybe. If he’s even alive.”

Losing contact with the Ark was devastating for many of the delinquents, but it had no effect on Harper. She was strangely numb to it when it happened. There was no one else up there she loved. These were her people now, these fiery, goofy, reckless teenagers with whom she was sent to die. 

She wrapped Miller in a hug. “You can’t think like that. You’re _going_ to see him again. And you’re going to take him sledding and he’ll take you surfing. And after that? You’ll do whatever the hell you want.”

Miller laughed and pat Harper on the back. “Thanks.”

They remained huddled against the wall, rifles drawn, as the snow continued to fall. _When does falling snow become a full-blown blizzard_? Harper wondered. The air was thick with it now. Flakes resembled tufts of cotton more than the crystalized slides Pike had showed them during one oddly memorable day of Earth Skills that somehow resulted in John Murphy getting pantsed by John Mbege. The memory brought a wide grin to Harper’s face. 

“Think they’ll sort out their shit while they’re gone?” Miller asked, breaking the silence.

“As in, do I think Clarke and Bellamy will finally admit to their painfully obvious feelings?” Harper replied. Miller nodded. “As much as I would genuinely love that for them, I don’t think so. They’re both too mission oriented to get caught up in emotions like that.”

“Sounds almost like a bet, McIntyre,” he challenged.

Harper grinned. “Loser takes winner’s next latrine rotation?”

“Deal.”

“Any sign of them yet?” Harper turned and found Monty standing at her side, his jacket pulled tight against the cold. 

_He looks like he’s freezing_ , Harper thought. _That was me about two hours ago. I hardly notice now_. 

She shook her head. “They have to come back. It’s Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia. They’re unnervingly resilient. They’ll come back.”

“They’re probably fine,” Monty agreed, “but I don’t think they’ll make it back tonight. It’s getting too dangerous. You and Miller should come inside. C’mon. Jasper’s got jerky set aside for both of you and Raven’s got the dropship warmed up. Well, at least warmer than out here.”

Harper turned to Miller. “They gave us an order.” God, she hated herself for saying that.

Miller turned back towards the forest, wound tightly as if preparing to fight Harper over this. She tensed, waiting. But then, his shoulders sagged, and he hung his head. “You’re right.”

“Wait! We’re here!” 

Harper, Monty, and Miller snapped to attention, squinting through the heavy snow for the source of the voice. Octavia stumbled into the clearing, Lincoln hot on her heels. 

“We made it,” Octavia huffed. “Don’t close the door.”

“Weapons,” Miller barked. “Leave them at the gate.”

“Miller, are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

Lincoln held up a hand to assuage Octavia. “It’s okay. We do the same thing with outsiders in my village.” He made quick work of his blades, tossing them aside in a surprisingly large pile. Where had he been keeping all of them? 

“Any poisons on you today?” Miller asked, patting down his right side. Harper shot him a look but said nothing as she took Lincoln’s left side. Nothing. He was clear.

“Not today,” Lincoln replied with a trace amount of humor in his voice. “You will find some tea leaves in my satchel, as well as a few extra furs to help keep your people warm. I recommend giving those to any young ones you have in your camp first.”

“You’re good to go. Follow Monty inside,” Harper said. “He’ll set you up with some food and a warm place to rest. Miller and I will join you as soon as we’re done here.”

“Wait.” Octavia took Miller by the arm and spun him to face her. “My brother? Clarke?”

“They’re not back yet.”

“Then, I guess the gate stays open.” Octavia’s voice was low, threatening. 

A thrill of fear shot down Harper’s spine. Even Lincoln looked unsettled. “We don’t take orders from you,” Harper said.

“But we do take them from Bellamy,” Miller continued. “And he said, ‘Close the damn door.’”

* * *

The first sign that Bellamy was cognizant was the litany of profanities that spewed from his lips. The second, and far more pleasant to Clarke’s ears, was when he turned his attention to her and murmured, “Hey, Princess.”

She took the opportunity to check for a concussion. “You didn’t hit your head on anything, did you?”

“No. My ankle…” He sat up slowly and tried to remove his boot. He hissed with the strain.

“Careful! Let me.” Gingerly, Clarke pulled the shoe away and gently prodded around, feeling for any broken bones. The tissue was swollen, and a bruise was already forming, but, mercifully, it didn’t appear broken. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

Bellamy grimaced. “Bad news first. Always bad news first.”

“Looks like a sprain. But that means you didn’t break anything.”

“Great…”

Clarke stood and brushed the slush off her pants. She glanced at the sky. The clouds were heavy and dark, snow falling thickly on the ground now. The wind whistled ominously through the trees. By Clarke’s estimate, they had another three hours of hiking to do to get home, and that was with no injuries. She gritted her teeth.

They weren’t going to make it.

Large boulders littered the valley, some leaning in such a way that they could block the worst of the wind and provide a modicum of shelter. She picked up a handful of snow and sifted it in her fingers. It was malleable, perfect for packing. She could make a wall, add some extra protection from the bitter cold…

“Okay,” she said kneeling back down beside Bellamy, “we’re not going to make it back tonight. You can’t walk on that ankle and there’s no way I could carry you all the way there. But I _can_ stabilize it and build us some shelter.”

“I trust you; what do you need from me?”

With some creative maneuvering, Clarke helped Bellamy hobble behind a large boulder and propped his injured foot up on a bank of packed snow. She found a large fallen branch, buried in the ice and snapped it in half to help fashion a splint for Bellamy. Her practiced fingers wrapped the cloth bandages from the salvaged first aid kit around his ankle and secured the branches. _There. Compressed and stabilized._

Meanwhile, Bellamy packed snow into large bricks for Clarke to stack into a lean-to. They worked quickly and efficiently together, despite his injury and the numbness creeping into their fingertips. By the time she had wedged the last bricks into place, Bellamy had a small fire crackling, its light dancing along the walls of their icy retreat. 

He patted the patch of frozen ground beside him and she sank down, curling into his side for warmth, misgivings about emotional and physical intimacy be damned. Wordlessly, he passed her a canteen and a packet of nuts. She swallowed them greedily. Then she paused. “I’m not going to get stoned eating these, am I?”

Bellamy barked a laugh, white teeth gleaming in the firelight. “I _really_ hope not. That last trip was awful.”

Clarke chewed her food thoughtfully and took another swig from her canteen. “How’s your leg?”

“Sore,” he shrugged, “but I’ll live. Thank you, by the way, for not leaving me back there.”

“You’d have done the same for me.” 

“True,” he said, tossing broken bits of twigs into the fire. “Still, I’m sorry that you’re stuck here with me.”

Clarke glanced up at him, searching his face. “What do you mean?”

“Surprised you didn’t invite Finn is all.”

“Did you _want_ me to invite him?”

“Not particularly. But he could’ve been useful. Maybe.” He didn’t seem particularly convinced by his own assertion. “Besides, figured you two were a thing, or going to be, after Raven dumped him.”

Clarke snorted. “No. Definitely not.”

“Why’s that?”

“You actually want to hear about this?”

“What else is there to do?” 

“Fine. But turnabout’s fair play. If we’re going to talk about my lack of love life, we’re talking about yours too.”

* * *

While she was thrilled her brother was making efforts to accept her relationship with Lincoln, Octavia was beginning to believe bringing him to camp wasn’t the smartest plan. Especially without the guarantee that he and Clarke would even be there to help keep the peace. 

Octavia tabulated the facts. Monty, Raven, and (sort of) Jasper had been left in charge of camp in their absence. Jasper severely distrusted Grounders, which she couldn’t entirely blame him for, given the past history with them, and had been grumbling about it to anyone who would listen all day. Monty was more open minded, but he seemed unwilling to command a room to voice his opinions, whatever they may be. Raven hated Lincoln, specifically, for poisoning Finn, and the feeling was mutual after that stunt she pulled with the livewires. 

She really hoped she had not led him into a trap.

“Winter has a way of bringing people together,” he told her while he boiled water for the tea he brought. He intended to share with the others.

Octavia shook her head but continued minding the fire.

The few who were still outside the dropship watched them from a distance, curious, probably afraid. Monty joined them, crouching down on the other side of Octavia, next to the fire. He seemed uncomfortable, she observed, but at least he wasn’t running away or attacking them. “What are you making there?”

Lincoln smiled. “A tea my mother used to give me and my father on cold nights like this.”

“Is it any good?”

“I suppose. Probably an acquired taste, but it warms you in your bones and sometimes that’s all you can really ask for.”

Monty hesitated, then, “May I try some?”

Lincoln nodded and passed a tin with the steaming liquid to him. Octavia’s brow crumpled in confusion, watching her friend sip the drink. “What’d you think?” she asked.

He wrinkled his nose and smiled. “Kind of bitter…but in a good way? I see what you mean about it warming you in your bones.” He took another thoughtful sip. “You should share this with the others. I think they’d really like it.”

Understanding passed between the two men and Octavia looked on in awe. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

* * *

“You first.”

Clarke stared into the fire and gathered her thoughts. “I didn’t know that Finn was cheating on Raven with me.” There. That seemed as good a place as any to start. “Not until she came down in that escape pod. And then…things started to click into place. He knew all the shit with my mom and Wells…but he never once shared anything personal in return. And then he kept trying to have it both ways, staying with Raven and trying to continue whatever it was with me. I couldn’t do that, and I’m glad Raven stood up for herself. We actually got drunk and bitched about it a few days after she dumped him. It was fun, cathartic.”

Bellamy chuckled. “That explains a lot.”

“Explains what?”

“You two slid out of your tents the next morning and acted like you got run over by a train. You were completely out of it the rest of the day; I was so frustrated with you both!”

It was Clarke’s turn to laugh. “Sorry about that. But at least Raven and I buried our shit. Anyway, the gist is, I don’t trust Finn anymore.” It felt good to voice that aloud. 

“What were you two talking about this morning that got you so upset? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“He was trying to convince me that I shouldn’t head out alone with you, that I couldn’t trust _you_ , which is ridiculous since, despite what happened with Raven’s radio, you have been very candid about who you are.” Heat that had nothing to do with the fire flooded her cheeks. That might have been too much information. “Now, it’s your turn to dish. Why is the undisputed ladies’ man of camp suddenly celibate?”

It could have been a trick of the light, but Clarke could have sworn she saw him flush. “Been paying attention, huh?”

“Some of your previous conquests have been complaining very loudly about your lack of interest.” She most certainly was _not_ going to mention the time Bree cornered her and asked if she was sleeping with Bellamy now. 

“Really? I don’t know if I should be flattered or terrified.”

“Bellamy…”

“Okay. I haven’t slept with anyone lately…because of what happened to Roma.” He threw another twig into the fire. Its merry crackle felt dissonant with the morbid turn in the conversation.

“You really liked her, didn’t you?”

“No. And that’s the problem. She had only gone out into the woods to look for Octavia, because of me. She was killed…because of me. And I realized, if the roles were reversed, if it was her sister lost in the woods, I probably wouldn’t have done the same. I don’t want anyone to take those kinds of risks for me, unless I’m willing to do the same for them. So, yeah. Currently abstaining.

“Well, except one time a few weeks ago with Raven.”

Why did that feel like a gut punch? “You slept with Raven?”

He looked down at his hands, as if embarrassed. “She was pissed off about everything with Finn and wanted a distraction. I was dealing with some shit of my own and a distraction sounded nice. It was fun but neither of us have any interest in repeating it.”

“Why?”

He turned to face her, his eyes searching her face for something. For what, Clarke was not quite sure, but she got the sense that the next words he would say and how she responded to them would be important. “I need it to mean something.”

Her lips parted in surprise. There could be no mistaking what it was he meant, not with the way he was looking at her, more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. But is that what she wanted? He was her friend, her partner. He kept her sane on this god forsaken planet. She trusted him.

She listed off each reason why she should definitely not act on the feelings simmering inside, but with each item on the list it became increasingly obvious that these were reasons why she _should_. Slowly, painfully so, she leaned toward him, giving him a chance to back away.

The first touch of his lips was electric, a jolt that shot through her whole being and made her feel wide awake, despite the trying events of the day. He cupped her cheeks gently between his palms, kissing her back with near reverence. It was dizzying and intoxicating and she eagerly sought more. From the way he pulled her closer, she knew he felt the same.

* * *

When Harper emerged from the dropship the following morning, she was greeted by blinding light. The sky, clear and blue, lit the entire forest, the snow clinging to the branches and blanketing the ground glittering in refracted patterns. She gaped at the sight. It was spectacular.

Jasper shattered her moment of awe. “Snowball fight!”

A handful of snow splattered against her shoulder. She gasped in surprise but quickly retaliated, lobbing snowballs in quick succession. Monty beckoned her over to a makeshift barrier he was hiding behind and together they had Jasper on the ropes. Tasks were abandoned, teams broke out, and snow forts were erected right there in the yard. Harper maintained that Lincoln’s team had an unfair advantage because he was used to snow and because of his general impressive stature. 

Various other winter activities cropped up throughout the morning and for the first time since they landed (maybe even before that, if she was being honest), Harper felt a little bit like a kid. A small part of her worried that she was being irresponsible and that Bellamy and Clarke would be disappointed, but then Miller would call her over to try his makeshift sled, or Monty would ask for her help building a snow dragon (because a snowman was too easy, according to Jasper) and she let the worries slip from her mind.

When it was time for her shift on the wall, she was exhausted in the best sense. She leaned heavily against the wall, rifle at her side. _No Grounder would want to waste a day like this_ , she thought. _They can’t be all fight all the time_. They certainly weren’t.

Such were her thoughts when she saw two figures approaching in the distance. She readied herself, peering through the scope on her gun. Immediately she let it fall, calling back to the rest of camp. “They made it! Bellamy and Clarke are back!”

She lifted the scope back to her eye, assessing. Did they need medical attention or help carrying their salvage? Unfortunately, for Harper anyway, that was not what she noticed first. 

Instead, she saw Clarke with her arm wrapped around Bellamy’s waist and his arm slung over her shoulder as they limped home. They were laughing and kept looking at each other with nothing short of deep affection. It was the kiss Bellamy pressed to Clarke’s cheek that sealed Harper’s fate.

It seemed she owed Miller one. Oh well, she shrugged. At least they’re happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story! If you liked it, please drop a kudos and a comment!


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